Mike D'Antoni = D-Bag

Mike D'Antoni should be coaching the Bulls. Their roster fits his offensive system better than the Knicks. They're 2-3 years closer than the Knicks to competing in the Conference Finals. And look at that stash -- pure Chicago.

But the Knicks offered more money, proving, once again, that capitalism is friggin' awesome, and way more important than championship rings and working in a city where the entire waterfront is public property, "forever open, clear and free."

Good luck with Zach Randolph and Eddie Curry.

Take Down

I've never seen a defensive line dominate like that in an NFL playoff game. You see it from time to time in College Bowl Games, but for the NYG's line to do what they did all day long to Tom Brady....

No question about it. Tuck & Strahan are your MVPs.

Where We're Headed in 2008

My Year in Review and Other Stories

2007 was so full of fullness that I've decided to extend it for two extra weeks. In doing so, I've also been able to put off my end of the year post until January 12th. Because let's face it. The Gregorian Calendar is a joke.

That being said, 2008 seems promising. I have a new position running a new Boys & Girls Club, and even though it's a little more stressful, it's a little more rewarding as well. It makes me realize that I would have made an alright minister....if it weren't for the whole dealing with dumb Christians thing.

Additionally, I'm writing again, which is fantastic. It's mostly awkward jumps and false starts, but it's really fun awkward jumps and false starts. And that makes all the difference.

But what of the blog? Wither my part in the downfall of Western Civilization? Two things are contributing to the attrition of my blogging commitment. One, I'm writing again. Not blog posts, but actual stories and tales of high seas adventure. Or something along those lines. So I don't have quite so many words left at the end of the day. And two, I still have no computer at home. This means every time I feel like shouting into interwebspace, I have to put my coat and hat on and trudge down to the office. It's not so bad. But we don't heat the place well on the weekends. Which builds character, I guess.

But here's the thing. It's an election year. You're probably not aware of that fact, I'm sure, because no one seems to be covering it. But it's true. And knowing the life cycle of this blog, it definitely peaks in years when we elect a president. In fact, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that the high water mark came in the weeks around and after November 2004. Knowing how much I like to loser, you might be expecting me to wax poetically about Ron Paul or Bill Richardson, both of which are fine public servants, but neither of which have my endorsement. Honestly, nobody has my endorsement at this point, because I hate hate hate political parties, but most especially the two-party system we cling to so dearly in these United States. It's like MLB with two teams and only two teams, playing every day. Like Anaheim and Boston, from here to eternity -- major suckville.

But I will tell you some things. Like how Barack Obama seems like an upstanding young man who might need a couple more terms (and one crushing presidential defeat) before I'd trust him with the keys to the kingdom. Or how John Edwards would make a great Secretary of Labor/Education/Health and Human Services/HUD or possibly even AG....but I'm not sure about president. Or how Hillary nearly won my heart the other day by laying her own heart on the table. Or how John McCain still puts the fear of God in my loins and ought to be Commander-in-Chief (though maybe not Head of State). Or how Mitt Romney gives me the willies. Or how Mike Huckabee is so likable whilst no having no qualifications whatsoever for the office. Or how this field, while more inspiring than 2004, still leaves me wanting.

And we'll talk more about this later. Yes, we will. But 2008 is exciting for other reasons as well:

• 48 days until Spring Training
• Curb Your Enthusiasm Season Six on DVD
  
• Chris Paul in the Summer Olympics
• Two (count 'em, two!) solar eclipses
  
• The Portland Trail Blazers
• Pilot Season/Some kind of WGA settlement
  
• Lots of people will do stupid things. Like crash minivans into buildings where people are trying to do the news.
  

• I'm going to be an uncle.
• I'm going to see the Pacific Ocean again
  

True, baseball is under a cloud of suspicion. True, the Blazers might fall flat just like the Brewers did last August. True, I have no money to get to the West Coast and I'm not sure what uncles actually do.

And true, the writers are still on strike. But that bothers me less and less each day. It goes without saying that I'd like 16 episodes of Lost rather than the 8 that are already in the can, but I can wait for the writers can get a bigger piece of the pie. I can wait for a lot of things. Like Arby's. Which I love, but only get maybe once a year living out in the middle of nowhere.

So the future of blogging looks blogtastic. There's life over at Catfish Haven. New pics will be forthcoming over at the New Xanga. I have plans to get back on the music review horse at some point on Bag-Trends. And who knows, maybe we'll all rediscover theology at some point and revive the olde Midwest Mindset? It is an election year...

So over the past year, I've stuck around in Vermont, tried to make it a little more like home, cut ties with Wisconsin, and found my parents in Tennessee. I've given into freak folk and the New Weird America, and given up on ever trying to like The Trumpet Child or Sky Blue Sky. I've perfected the art of IMDB, and developed a man-crush on everything Judd Apatow. I've lost a few friends to the dangers of email friendships, which happens every year, and is more my fault than the technology's, but geography is a bitch, too. My heart is here in Rutland, mostly, with slivers all the way across these United States, sort of like a scavenger hunt, for heart strings, on Miniclip, and Google Earth.

All that to say, this is the last day of 2007 (lies!). The first day of old things made new. My name is Jonny Rice, I live in Rut-Vegas, I'm not all that concerned with happiness right now, but for blogging's sake, I need to have contempt.

When Brands Collide

Brady and Manning Meet in Battle of the Brands (NY Times)

Just hours away from the big Colts-Patriots game, and with all the hoopla surrounding these teams, it keeps coming down to two players -- Manning vs. Brady. Which is just how their respective sponsors would have it.

So are you a Peyton Man or a Brady Man? MasterCard and Sprint? Or Stetson cologne and ridiculously expensive watches? The last watch I bought was $8.97 at Wal-Mart, so you probably already know whose camp I fall into.

For as good as Brady is, he just seems a little too good. A little too rugged. A little too pretty. And, at least in his advertising persona, a little too devoid of anything resembling a sense of humor.



Honestly, how can you even begin to like him when he does this shit? Either he's a complete tool-bag, or one of the most ironically hilarious guys on the planet. And I get the feeling this cowboy doesn't do irony.

Manning, on the other hand, has got funny coming out the wazoo. In that old test of a presidential candidate's relatability, he's the guy you'd rather have a beer with. And, unlike Mr. Stetson up there, he refuses to take himself seriously.



Come on. It's not even a contest. So I guess it's no coincidence that the closest thing I have to a watch nowadays is my phone, courtesy of Sprint mobile. Thanks, Peyton. And thank you, Corporate America, for targeting my humor and my wallet so deliberately. Your check is in the mail.

Hello and Good Riddance

Further Thoughts on Baseball.

• Was that really a World Series? Four straight years of boring baseball to wrap things up. Three sweeps and a five game series. And to rub salt in the wound, it was the Sawks. I rooted for them last time, just to get rid of the damned curse. But they seemed like lovable underdogs then. Now, they're just as Evil as the Yankees -- minus the warm fuzzies I get from being a Yankees fan since the days of my youth. And without those childhood fuzzies....they really just make me want to throw up real bad.
  
  
• So Joe Girardi is in, and Don Mattingly is out. As much as it pains me to admit it (I'd follow Donnie Baseball to the ends of the earth), Girardi is the right guy, both for the immediate future and for the long term prospects of the Yankees. Joe Torre was never a baseball genius, he just knew how to manage a ballclub full of New York-sized egos. And he knew how to do it well. However, he never quite got the hang of how to handle a bullpen (Rivera was a gimme); And he's had difficulty plugging younger players into the All-Star Yankee teams of the past few seasons. (Though the blame in that respect also weighs heavily on the Yankee front office.) Girardi's past experience as a big league catcher, and as the manager of a young Florida Marlins club, ought to serve him well.
  
  
• As rumors fly about Torre accepting a job in Dodger-land (he's from Brooklyn originally, as are the Boys in Blue), Grady Little quits and Mattingly muses about following Torre wherever he ends up next. I like this scenario: For one, there's not much to root for the in NL right now, and the Dodgers have been my No. 2 team in the Senior Circuit (after the Brewers) since the first meeting of The Society of Young Gentlemen for a Yankees-Dodgers World Series. In fact, a Torre-led Dodger club would only serve to further public support for S.Y.G.Y.D.W.S. In addition, Mattingly eventually deserves a shot at managing a team, and having him coach for a club not named the New York Yankees can only help his chances in the future. Let's see this happen.
  
  
• A-Rod is a douche. I defended this guy last year, when all of New York was eating him alive, but the timing of his announcement and his failure to even entertain an offer from the Yankees before he hit the free agent market is an all-time low for a Yankee great. (At least, as far as free-agency is concerned. Guys like Bernie and Donnie retired rather than play for another organization. Caveat though -- A-Rod can still hit.) And considering Mike Lowell's performance in the post-season this year, maybe we'd be better off with him at the hot corner anyway.
  
  
• Speaking of....Yes, Mike Lowell is a free agent. Yes, he's a product of the Yankees farm system. Yes, the Yankees need a third baseman. No, he will not replace A-Rod's bat over the course of 162 games next year. Yes, he can actually hit in October. This (and a boatload of pitching) is just what the Yanks need.
  
  
• Geoff Jenkins is done as a Brewer. It makes sense -- you don't pick up a $9 mil option on a guy who hits 21 HRs and bats .255 -- but it's still hard to see a Brewer vet like Jenkins go. Yet with guys like Tony Gywnn, Jr. waiting in the wings....2008 ought to be an exciting year for the Brew Crew.
  
  
• And finally, Dusty Baker just might kill the Reds pitching staff....and any chance they have a returning to the post-season. Note to Aaron Harang and Homer Bailey: learn to say "no" to this guy before he ruins your respective careers.
  

21 of 22

They might have the worst color scheme in Major League Baseball, but by-God, the Colorado Rockies are going to the World Series. And to think: there was mid-season talk of trading this guy.

Now let's go Tribe!

It's like that plane ride back home from Seattle...

12 Years

That's a long time for a ball club to stick with one manager. Especially if you're the manager of the New York Yankees. It's hard to believe it was 12 years ago that Buck Showalter lost his job when Randy Johnson pitched three scoreless innings in relief on two days rest, allowing the Mariners to beat the Yanks in 11. Tonight was a completely different situation, but still, everyone realizes that it's the end of an era, just like they did 12 years ago on that plane ride back from Seattle. 1995 was the end of the Mattingly era for the Yanks. And now 2007 looks to be the end of the Torre era.

It's a big deal that the Yankees clawed back from a terrible first half. They were the only playoff team this year who made also made the playoffs last season. Seven new playoff teams. A different World Series winner every year for the last seven. And we're guaranteed an 8th this year, too. In light of that, the fact that the Bombers made the playoffs every year under Torre's 12 year term -- playing in 6 World Series, and winning 4 of them -- is an amazing run. But after being bounced from the first round in three straight series, and without a Worlds Series win since 2000, Steinbrenner's new-found patience has finally worn thin. Averaging 98 wins a season over 12 years just doesn't cut it in New York.

Changes come.

"This has been a great 12 years, whatever the hell happens from here on out," Torre said after the loss. "I'll look back on these 12 years with great pleasures based on the fact I'm a kid who had never been to the World Series ... to have been in six World Series, I can tell you it never gets old."

"The 12 years just felt like they were 10 minutes long, to be honest with you."

Bronx Blogs

My new favorite Yankee blog:

Nomaas.org

O Griff! O Junior! O Fleeting Youth! Run not softly back to my warm-waiting bosom!

Barry Bonds is at 749, just six shy of Hank Aaron's mark, and once again most Americans don't really care. (Though you wouldn't know it from watching Sports Center.) Aaron has repeated that he's not going to bother attending any games once Bonds nears his mark. And Bud Selig has repeated an many occasions that he's unsure whether he'll be in the park when Bonds breaks the record. On one hand, it almost sounds like Aaron is a little bitter that Bonds is going to break his 755. But in light of the BALCO affair and the black cloud that hovers over Bonds because of it, it's hard to blame Aaron. Selig doesn't have a good excuse, however. If he's not going to actively prosecute Bonds for breaking any rules, he has no reason to stay away as Bonds nears the record. Bonds is either a cheater or he isn't. Selig, especially as commissioner, can't have it both ways. (It might be a moot point 15 years from now, however, as both Alex Rodriguez and Albert Pujols could pass Bonds if they stay healthy for their careers, but that's a big IF for a major league ballplayer.)

In the shadow of Bonds' feat, though, a few other ball players have been lost in the home run shuffle. Sammy Sosa, embroiled in his own steroids controversy, just passed the 600 mark, becoming only the fifth player to do so, and drastically improving his Hall of Fame chances. Ken Griffey Jr., in yet another resurgent year, is nearing 600. And Frank Thomas, who fell off the face of the planet for a number of years, is just one short of 500.

As these guys near the end of their careers, something else nears its end in the baseball world, at least according to me. These are the players I came up with as a baseball fan. I'm nearing my 20th year as more than a casual fan of baseball, something that began with the 1988 NLCS which pitted the Mets against the Dodgers. My first clear baseball memory was Kirk Gibson's pinch hit home run in Game 1 of that series, as the underdog Dodgers upset a powerful Mets ball-club. From there on I gravitated towards New York clubs like the Mets and the Yankees, and even a former NY team in the Giants. Guys like Will Clark, Howard Johnson and Don Mattingly quickly became my favorite ball players. And the Yankees, lovable losers at the time, somehow become my favorite team.

Those guys have long since retired, so it's Thomas and Griffey and Sosa whom I remember best, seeing as how their careers have coincided with my love for the game. And it's sad to see these guys nearing the end. I wouldn't be surprised if Sosa called it quits after this year, now that he's reached 600. Thomas may have another year left in him, but that's yet to be seen. Griffey, who still looks 20-something, seems to have a couple more years to go, especially now that he's ready to leave Cincinnati for a playoff contender. Guy wants a ring, and who can blame him for that?

But when they leave the game, I feel like I become, by default, one of the "old-timers," a weird thought for a 27 year old. Glavine, Biggio, Clemens, Franco...it's hard to say how many games these guys have left. And when they're gone, a year or two from now, I will have been a fan of this game for a complete generation -- 20 years. The guys I grew up watching have been almost completely replaced by a new crop of players. That's not to say I don't like A-Rod and Jeter and company -- they're great ball players. But I distinctly remember when they came up into the the league. I can't say that about Sosa or Clemens. And it's different because of that, even though I can't really explain it. I remember being all of 16 years old, and calling guys like Jeter and Posada "kids." That takes an old soul. But now, when those "kids" are nearing the end of their careers, what do you call young guys like Prince Fielder and Ryan Braun?

I guess what I'm getting at is that all loves eventually mellow out at some point. There was a time there, near the end of the steroids era and in the midst of the Yankees dynasty, when I stopped caring about baseball. Luckily, that didn't last. But this renewed love for the game is different than it used to be. It's more grounded in history and poetry, economics and and a willingness to lose three hours to a game in which very little, and everything in the world, happens. It's not quite as passionate, but it doesn't need to be. I'm committed to this game now. I'm committed to it in the same way I'm committed to other great American inventions like Bluegrass, Walk Whitman and Wisconsin Cheddar. It's part of me. And I'm happier for it.

It's alot of fun to be a fan once again, an old-timer now, who sneers at the young pups who prefer the NFL or the NBA (or, God forbid, NASCAR). Basbeall is as much America as Harry Truman or Mark Twain. No matter who it is out there on the diamond, I'm always going to have a piece of my heart out there.

It's honestly about as romantic a game as you'll ever see. And the older I get, the more I realize just how perfect it really is.

New York, New York: Let the second guessing begin.

Another Early Exit, Maybe Torre's Last

The New York Yankees, the most feared lineup in all of baseball, were no-hit for 5 2/3 innings yesterday, on their way to an 8-3 loss to the Detroit Tigers. Tigers advance, Yankees go home. And New York sports writers couldn't be happier.

Sports writers are at their best when they have somebody to criticize. World Series wins make for great pictures, but they don't make for great columns. Losses do.

The New York Daily News (NYC's "picture paper") was the first to report this morning that Joe Torre was on his way out (according to those oft-anonymous "sources"). After winning four World Series for the Bronx faithful, the cries of "yes, but what have you done for me lately?" have grown louder and louder since the Yankees' WS loss to the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2001. Three (count 'em one {1}, two {2}, three {3},) Daily News columnists all but outright challenged George Steinbrenner to fire Joe Torre in the wake of the Yankees postseason performance, hinting or even blurting out the fact that if they take too much time in deciding Torre's fate, former Yankee manager Lou Pinella might slip through their fingers while finding a job with the Giants, Cubs or Nationals organizations. Expect Torre, like the consummate gentleman he is, to take the blame if asked to. Scapegoats are rarely ever to blame, they're just a public personification of an organization's blame symbolically forced on one individual for both comfort and catharsis. Never mind the fact that if the Yankees were a publicly traded corporation, there'd be calls for CEO George Steinbrenner to step down and find a replacement who can produce results. But, in the end, it's baseball. And that means fire the coach.

The New York Post, however, ran actual columns on real reasons why the Yankees went down so quickly in the playoffs. They're no-brainers to anyone that watched the series, but at least the Post had the common sense to blame the Yankees' piss-poor starting rotation, lack of defensive stalwarts, and an embarrassing hitting "attack" led by number eight hitter and two-time MVP Alex Rodriguez. You can't win games if you don't hit. But if you don't pitch or play the field either, well, expect to get schooled.

GM Brian Cashman is already on record saying he doesn't expect to make any changes at manager and third base for next season. Torre is under contract for one more year at $7 million, which the Yankees would still be obligated to pay if they fired him. And A-Rod's monster contract and no-trade clause will make it tough to move him even if they wanted to. But none of that means shit to Steinbrenner. He's already subsidizing payrolls (through revenue sharing) in markets like Kansas City and Tampa, so picking up the tab for Torre and A-Rod's exits while hiring replacements isn't out of the realm of possibility. In fact, if George's past behavior is any indicator, it's pretty damn likely.

And Lou Pinnella's not a bad choice for a replacement. He's a great manger with a quality mind for the game. But the Yankees need more than just a scapegoat. They need an organizational sea-change that starts at the lowest levels and works its way up. They need to take some of the millions of dollars they hand out to free agents every year and pour it into scouting and developmental leagues. They need a GM with a head for getting the most out of a budgeted payroll. They need a front office that understands that baseball is won by rosters with smart pitching, solid defenders, and situational hitters. They need, to be honest, the 1996 New York Yankees.

But most of all, they need an owner with the patience to build these things from the ground up. Unfortunately, that's the one thing George Steinbrenner can't buy. Well, that and another World Series ring.

Buck O'Neil, 1911-2006

John Jordan "Buck" O'Neil died tonight. For those in the know, Buck was a revered veteran of Negro League baseball, and an unofficial spokesman for the game since his appearance in Ken Burns' Baseball. He was 94.

Born in Florida, Buck left his home at age 21 to join a "barnstorming" baseball club, traveling the country to play teams from various cities, some from white ball clubs. He was signed in the initial season of the Negro Leagues in 1937, and played out most of his career for the Kansas City Monarchs. His career was put on hold during WWII, like many other ball players, for a two-year stretch in the U.S. Navy. He came back from the war to both play and coach for the Monarchs, then spent over 30 years as a scout and coach for the Chicago Cubs.

He garnered much attention from his interviews during Ken Burns' Baseball documentary, regaling Burns and audiences with long-forgotten tails of the Negro League. Since then, Buck had become a champion of the league, doing interviews and public appearances for anyone willing to listen. He was nominated on a special Baseball Hall of Fame ballot for former Negro League players this past year, but failed to garner the 75% necessary for induction. Always the better man, he put his love for the game first and agreed to speak at the induction ceremony just this past summer.

Buck O'Neil was one of those men of whom not a ill word could be spoken. Always gracious, ever professional, and beloved by the game of baseball. He will be missed.